


I Always Believed In You

by uhmyeah



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band), One Direction (Band)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Choking, Dirty Talk, Friendship, Grinding, Hair Kink, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Phone Calls & Telephones, Smut, Swearing, Texting, this is happy then sad then happy again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-29
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-02 01:07:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16776574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uhmyeah/pseuds/uhmyeah
Summary: so lets be clear i am aware of the fact it is 2018 and i am also aware of the fact that this is DEAD but. my heart soars for my emo boys :( i also got inspired by the lyrics "Tell me something I don't already know"//"I always believed in second chances, always believed in you" and uh i had to. michael is sad, harry is sad, everyone (including myself) is sad, but then happy. oof. anyways enjoy!!





	1. Chapter 1

Everything was peach perfect. They were on tour, they were happy, their fans loved the new record, _they_ loved the new record. Everything was, honestly, the best fucking thing that’s ever happened to Michael. He often finds himself in awe as to how thankful he is for his band and fans and family and every single person in his life, even the McDonald’s cashier who gave him his nuggets earlier. He’s finally beginning to feel human again after…god knows how long. He feels on top of the world, really. They’re in London tonight, which is always something that erupts butterflies in his stomach. Just coming back to the place where it all sort of…kicked off, is so nostalgic to him. He loves it in London. He loves the architecture and the people and everything about the city. He remembers walking around whenever he had to clear his mind for a while, getting lost in the winding streets of the city, but he wouldn’t panic. It always felt like a home away from home for him. In a way, it was, they all lived there for a while. But when he thinks of London as his home…it isn’t his house. It’s just…the whole vibe of the city, of England as a whole, really. It just evokes this sense of familiarity in him. And then all the memories he has of the city are just the icing on the cake.

They’re loading into the O2. He sort of loves this part. He loves watching their stage get set up, and exploring the arena, and helping load in guitars and amps. He knows that most rockstars don’t help their roadies unload, but Michael just wants to. He likes the whole side of it. Sometimes being part of the whole big main act is tiring and scary and he needs to kick down a few notches. So, he helps unpack. It isn’t that big of a deal, and the guys in his band and crew know this. It’s just a thing he does. He jokes around with the crew as well. He really loves their crew. He’s so thankful. And happy. Which, is new for him. But good. New, but good.

As he carries in the last guitar and places it in the rack, he goes off to chill backstage for a while. They’ve got about an hour or so until soundcheck. Michael is excited. They want to do an acoustic one today. No fans at this one, which he’s half upset about, but it’s fine because it means he can fuck around more and step on a pedal that makes Luke’s microphone make him sound like an alien. Maybe he can convince Ash to use a dumb drum effect. He loves his band. It’s really fun.

They get through soundcheck fairly quick. He did manage to get Ashton to fuck around with his drums and Luke sang all of Ghost of You as an alien with a poor Scottish accent. Michael was laughing the whole time. As they headed back to the stage, his phone buzzes in his pocket.

**Hey. It’s been a while. Can I call tonight? xx H.**

_What the fuck?_

harry?

**Yeah.**

_Just peachy fucking perfect. This doesn’t feel like getting mauled by a bear while getting run over by a freight train at all._

i mean. i have a show tonight. but uh. i guess? we’ll be back at the hotel around 12?

**Okay. Have a good show xx**

_What the entire, actual fuck?_

But before he can dive into self-loathing, he hears Calum call his name and he runs into the other room.

“Dude, you’ll never believe who I just got a text from. Harry fucking Styles.” Michael says, waving his phone in Calum’s face.

“Oh, shit. I’m assuming this time around you don’t mean it was him asking if you wanted to tour with him?”

“Yeah, no. He asked if he could call me. What the fuck is this? What do I do? I mean, I already said yes, but we have a show tonight. Fuck! Calum! What do I do?”

Calum walks over to Michael and pulls him down to sit.

“I mean. First, calm down. Second…talk to him. I guess. He’s gonna call tonight?”

“Yeah. When we get back to the hotel. Calum,” Michael whines, drawing out Calum’s name, “why did I do this? Why can’t I learn?”

Calum sighed and rubbed his back.

“Because you loved him. Like I said, love is a scam. You get into it and it’s awesome and the best ever during it, but when it ends, fuck, it hurts. And you love hard, and with everything you have. So it’s worse for you, I think. But I’m here. If things get bad tonight, come to my room and wake me up and we can cry or watch tv or play video games or do whatever you need to do. But if things _do_ work out for you two tonight, come to my room and wake me up and scream about it like we’re 18 again, because I’ll scream with you, because you’re my best friend and my brother and I love you and I love seeing you happy. Anyways.”

“Calum, stop, I’ll cry. I love you too. And yeah, totally beginning to see your whole ‘love is a scam’ thing. Fuck Harry, man.” Michael says, resting his head on Calum’s shoulder.

“I mean, if you’re gonna do that, just please shower after before coming to my room. That’s all I ask.”

“Calum. It’s a phone call.”

“You and I both know that a lot can happen on a phone call.”

“True. Anyways. What did you call me in here for?”

“Oh. I can’t remember now. It wasn’t important.”

The two stay like that for a long while, just relaxing in the other’s presence before the show. When the other two come barreling in, singing some song from the 80’s and cutting up the Nickelback for the preshow ritual, Michael’s heart races. It always does before a show. A mix of anxiety and absolute dread but at the same time, overwhelming excitement and happiness and every emotion all at once. It’s a lot. He’s glad for the preshow shot. Usually it’s just shitty beer, but that’s fine. Alcohol is alcohol.

They run up the stairs and onto the stage. At one point he stops to read signs and reads a few out loud. One is directed towards Luke and when he reads it to him, Luke’s head tips back with laughter. He loves his band. He loves the fans. Everything is so good.

The show goes really well. The fans were super into the songs, and they all played great. When they’re in the car, he purposefully sits beside Calum, just so he can calm his nerves down. His phone buzzes.

**Text me when I can call. xx H.**

Michael’s head flops back and jams into the seat. He whines and rubs the place, showing Calum the text.

“Are you gonna do it?”

“Have to. Is it…a good idea, do you think?”

“For you? Maybe. I don’t know. I think that if things don’t turn out great that you’ll be hung up for a while over it, but I don’t know what’s gonna be said. I’m here for you either way. Also, might wanna send that text, we’re here.”

Michael just groans louder.

we’re here. give me five.

He walks up to his room, taking the stairs so he can get his nerves down, and enters. He flops down unflatteringly onto the bed, shuffling up and stretching out.

  1. im in my room.



Not five minutes later, his phone rings. He lets it ring twice, staring at the phone and the contact picture, which is him and Harry on a date, which he really needs to change because _ow_.

“Hello?” he says.

“Hey. How are you?” Harry drawls.

_Oh, how he’s missed that voice._

“I’m uh,” _What do I say?? Do I lie?? What the fuck?? Calum!!_ “good. I’m good. What about you?”

“I’m good too. Glad to be back home from tour. How was the show?”

“Amazing. London is a great crowd.”

“You’re in London? Did you play O2?”

“Yeah. I love it there.”

“The O2 is great. I’m glad you had a good show, Mike.”

A few beats of silence.

“So. Why did you wanna call me? It’s been…years, Harry. Why now?”

He hears a deep intake of breath.

“Did you listen to my album?”

“Are you seriously asking me to give you a review-“

“No, just, answer?”

“Yeah, course. I really liked it, Haz.” _Fuck, fuck, Haz? Why did I call him that?_

“Oh, I’m glad, thank you. I uh. There’s a couple on there about you?”

“Oh,” _Oh._ “Which ones?”

“Uh. New York and Dining Table. Parts of Two Ghosts. But mostly New York and Dining Table.”

_Dammit, now he knows why he felt so close to those songs._

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I uh. Think. Maybe that you could look into those lyrics and figure out why I called?”

“No, I get it, I immediately got it. We actually…Empty Wallets. Parts are about you.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Which…parts? Of New York.”

“Everything, really. I just feel like. We ended really rough. And I uh. You used to tell me all these things when we were in bed, or on dates, whatever. You used to tell me a lot of stuff. And I miss it. I miss people-you-telling me things. What part of your song?”

“Actually, funny enough, the main part I’m thinking of I wrote as kind of a response to New York. I love that song, H. Really gorgeous. But, uh. Ask me.”

“Ask you?”

“Ask me to tell you something. Like in the song.”

“Oh. _Tell me something new, something I don’t already know_ , Michael.”

_Fuck. Why’d he have to add his name?_

“ _I always believed in second chances, always believed in you._ Which, sounds dramatic, but it isn’t. When we were together, I really thought that you were my second chance at love, since the first time around I got super fucked over. I also always believed that you could do anything, you remember? Whenever you’d get insecure about something, I’d always be right there, believing in you. I’m you’re number one fan, Haz. _”_

“Fuck.” Harry says.

“Yeah. Fuck.”

For a few seconds, all that can be heard are the breaths of both boys.

“I’m sorry. I know…how bad. We ended. I think about it everyday. And I’m sorry we haven’t spoken in so long. Like I said in Dining Table, comfortable silence is overrated. Especially for us, because I know for me, it sure as hell wasn’t comfortable for the first couple months. I know it wasn’t for you, either. You’re like me; we love with everything we have. I feel like you might have been more fucked from it though, because you’re the one being broken up with, y’know? It wasn’t really even a breakup, I just, up and fucking left. And I’m sorry. I really am. I started feeling too much for you and I got scared and it got too much. I know that what I did isn’t justifiable, but I really am sorry.”

“Haz…I mean. It isn’t okay, but I forgive you. I forgave you immediately. I always believed-believe- in you. I did then, I do now. You really transfixed me. I dunno. Thank you for apologizing, though. It’s funny. I thought that maybe, just maybe, hearing you apologize would make things better, but now I just hurt a lot and miss you again. The fuck’s up with that?” Michael jokes.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you miss me.”

“I never stopped.”

“I’m still sorry.”

“Stop apologizing, it’s fine. Now. Tell me, did you really jack off thinking about me?”

“I can hear the smirk in your voice and I hate it. Who’s to say I wasn’t talking about playing a nice game of Solitaire?”

“Well, you said you played with yourself, asked where I was, then said you fell back asleep. We both know you’re out as soon as you come.”

“I am not! We had plenty of nice talks after sex!”

“Harry, it’s fine, calm down. Inflate my ego.”

“Yes, emo, it was about you.”

_Emo. Big huge gigantic fucking ouch._

“Not emo. But nice shot, Baby Jagger.”

“ _Baby Jagger!_ I love that!”

“You would. Is Only Angel about me too?”

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

“ _Harry Styles!_ How dare you write about our sex life!”

“Okay, English Love Affair.”

“Listen, you were hot and had a hot accent and had a good dick and I was a wannabe emo from Australia, what do you expect?”

“Our accents were the same, pretty much. Speaking of, where’s yours?” Harry teasingly asks.

“Dunno. Mine is more there than the rest of the Foive Secands of Summah’s. I don’t know how, or why.”

Harry laughs brightly.

“Found it! You sound good with an American accent.”

“Thanks. You’re still English as ever.”

“Fanks dahling.”

This time Michael laughs.

“What time is it for you, emo?”

“’Round 1:30. I should probably go. I’ll text you tomorrow, yeah?”

“Yeah, sounds good. It was really good speaking again.”

“Totally.”

“Okay. Goodnight, emo. Sleep well. Have a good show at your next one.”

“Thank you. Goodnight, Haz.”

He hangs up and sprints to Calum’s room, violently banging at the door.

“Calum! Open up!” he whisper yells.

Calum shuffles to the door and opens it and Michael barges in.

“Holy shit! Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit. Harry! He fucking! Ah!”

“Yeah?”

“Yes, Calum! He didn’t profess his love but he and I talked about a lot and I missed him and got really fucking sad for a minute but then we started joking around and I said I would text him tomorrow and he said sorry and I said it was fine and we had a good heart to heart for a while about lyrics we’ve written about each other and-“

“Breathe, Michael.”

Michael breathes in and out exaggeratedly to please Calum.

“-and he just fucking! Called me emo! He called me emo, Calum!”

Calum’s eyes widened and Michael saw the excitement fill his eyes.

“Michael! He called you emo!”

“He called me emo! _And_ I called him Haz! Straight away, at first, which was, a fuck lot to say the least. But!”

“Michael!”

“Calum!”

The two were screaming like idiots and laughing and high fiving and hugging and it made Michael’s heart soar. He had Calum, his band, his Harry, back. _His Harry? They spoke one time. Talk about a slip of tongue. But it still made his heart soar._

“Hey, can I sleep here tonight? I hung up and sprinted out without grabbing my key.”

“You’re a dumbass. But yeah, sure.”

“Thanks, Cal. Love you.”

“Mmhm. Love you too.”

The two drifted off to sleep. Michael goes to sleep with a smile on his face for the first time in a long time. Everything feels like it has fallen back into place for him. He has the fans, the band, Calum—

And, finally, once again, Harry.


	2. Have Your Cake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I was gonna leave the first chapter as a one shot thing but uh. I couldnt help myself. anyways. say hi to your 2013 self for me.

Michael woke up to a text from Harry just now, which, understandably, woke his mind and heart up as well as giving him a proper heart attack.

**Hey. I forgot to mention I’m in London right now, wanna meet up? We can go to that café we used to go to, or I can come to you hotel? Promise I won’t tweet the location out ;)**

**your***

Michael smiles and shoves his head into a pillow.

_yeah, im down. come to my hotel? i’ll text you the address. i know you wont tweet it out bc you never tweet anyways. see you then h._

Michael texts him the address and puts his phone on the table, telling Calum to “fuck off, Harry is coming over”, to which Calum raises a middle finger but grabs his jacket and heads to Ashton’s room. Michael then gets in the shower.

When he exits the bathroom, he towels off his hair and slips on a big hoodie and jeans and his glasses. He looks in the mirror and fiddles with his hair for a minute but smiles, because he looks _cute_ , and maybe, just maybe, Harry will think so too.

He’s shoved out of his thoughts by a knock on the door, so he goes and opens it.

“You know, from one musician to another, you probably shouldn’t just open your door for anyone. C’mere.” Harry says, pulling Michael into a hug. “It’s nice to see you again. Can I come in?”

Michael pulls away.

“Yeah, c’mon. Take a seat, make yourself at home.”

“Home away from home, yeah?”

“Better than the bus.”

“Definitely better than the bus. I like the new record, by the way. Talk Fast is a proper bop…”

Michael smiles and sits beside him.

“I can’t tell if you sound like my dad or the fans. But thank you.”

“Would you rather me go off about how She Looks So Perfect is the best song ever written, possibly ever, in the history of time? Oh, tell me, who is Good Girls about? Who’s the lucky lady?” Harry jibes, playfully mocking interviewers.

“What magazine is this for, or are we on air? Can I swear?”

“Not live, go for it.”

“Quite frankly, dear interviewer, none of your _fucking_ business.” Michael says in a mock Australian accent.

They crack up, laughing hysterically because they both know the repetitive questions and love life inquiries, and both understand how tiring they get to hear after about the…second time asked? It’s nice, laughing with Harry again.

“Don’t you just _wish_ you could say shit like that?”

“Every day of my life, mate.”

It’s silent for a moment.

“Y’know, I was scrolling through twitter-“

“So you’re just online but never, like, interact? Dude.”

“- _anyways_ , I was scrolling through twitter, and some of your fans I follow, right? A couple of them were going off about how cute you looked with glasses and I hadn’t seen anything but, uh. Can confirm. You do look quite nice with them, actually. It’s a good look on you.”

Michael only blushes a little.

“Thanks. I like them. I can actually see properly, which is nice. I can confirm that you look good too, even though your Gucci pants are sure something with those loafer…sandals? It’s a look, nonetheless.”

“Hey! Maybe you need the prescription checked.”

“Maybe. Probably not.”

Harry furrows his eyebrows.

“You don’t intimidate me, I’ve seen your cock.” Michael jabs playfully.

“You did a lot more than see, if I remember correctly.” Harry teases.

“You enjoyed it.”

“You did too.”

“You started it!” Michael whines.

“Did I?”

Michael is silent for a second.

“Yes, because I’m never wrong.”

“And they say I have an ego.”

“You do.” Michael says.

“You do too.” Harry replies, smirking.

“Stop…rebutting…me! You suck.”

“You wish.”

“Yeah,” Michael says without thinking, eyes widening. Harry smirks. “-shut up. Don’t look at me like that.” Michael finishes, head flopping onto Harry’s shoulder.

Harry laughs, resting his head on Michael’s.

“I mean. I could. If you want.”

Michael’s head shoots up, conking painfully into Harry’s.

“You…huh? Me?”

“Unless there’s a ghost in the room.”

“Me? Now?”

“You. Whenever.”

“Now?” Michael suggests, but also questions. He’s thoroughly confused. And turned on. Just like old times.

“If you want.”

“How are you so chill about this? We haven’t spoken in years and now you’re gonna suck my cock?”

“Only if you want.”

“I definitely want.”

“Right, then. Do you want me to kiss you before or just…go for it?”

Michael freezes, looking at Harry with big green eyes.

“Uh.”

“Lay back. You liked kissing. I got you.”

Michael does as he’s told, taking his glasses off on the way.

“Shame. You looked precious with them on.”

“Don’t want them to break. We know how clumsy we are after sex.”

“True.” Harry says, clambering on top, nearly kneeing Michael in the balls.

“Or during. You’re just a hopeless giraffe, Haz.”

“Be nice or you won’t get your cock sucked.”

“Sir yes sir.” Michael jokes, wrapping his arms around Harry’s neck.

They lay like that, Harry hovering over Michael, nose to nose, staring into each other’s eyes. Just for a moment.

“You okay? Ready?” Harry asks, nose brushing Michael’s.

“I’ve been ready.” Michael says. He doesn’t elaborate further, meaning deep within the words.

Then, it happens. Harry leans in, brushing his lips to Michael’s. It lasts a solid two seconds, because they both inhale sharply through their noses from surprise, and Harry sneezes because of it. Domestic, just like old times, Michael thinks.

“Okay. Sorry. Take two.” Harry says, leaning in again.

This time, they both determinedly do not breathe in immediately. Michael feels like he’s gonna cry, he’s missed Harry so much, and they’re just kissing but it feels so _good_ , feels like coming home, and. Oh. _Home._ England, home, Harry, home, Harry, England; _home._ It makes sense now. Michael leans up and tries to deepen the kiss, sucking gently at Harry’s bottom lip, tangling his hands in his hair just like Harry used to like. Apparently, he still does, if his tongue probing at Michael’s is anything to go by. Michael sighs and relaxes into the pillows, pulling Harry down with him, settling him on top. They pull apart to breathe, panting into each other’s mouths.

“You’re still a good kisser.” Michael says, eyes darting up to Harry’s and a hand tangling in his hair, just to see his eyes flutter shut. They do. Michael smirks.

“You’re still a little shit.”

“Mmm, never quit, kiss me again.” Michael replies, sultry tone making his words come out like honey. Harry complies.

They kiss and kiss until they’re both desperate for more, but neither willing to make a move. Their tongues are dancing, their hands exploring from the chest up. Harry pulls off, and Michael is about to protest, but then a pair of puffy pink lips are attaching to his jawline, so he shuts up. He cards his hands into Harry’s hair, sighing. Harry kisses and gently nips up his jaw to his ear, and Michael’s head turns to give him more room.

“God, wanna wreck you, so bad.” Harry drawls out, right up against Michael’s ear.

Michael lets out a little whine, and don’t look at him like that, if Harry Styles said that to you, in that voice, hard cock against your thigh…you would too.

“Wreck me, Haz-” Michael says, voice high. He clears his throat so his voice is back to normal. “-wreck me.”

Harry groans and sucks a mark into Michael’s neck, right behind his ear, right where Michael told him all those years ago. Michael whimpers, mind forcing his hips to stay against the bed.

Harry kisses downwards, but pulls off and sits on Michael’s hips. His hands go up and his fingers twirl the hoodie drawstrings tight around themselves.

“As delicious as you look with this on, it’s really gotta come off, love. That okay?” Harry asks.

Michael’s heart swells. Was he asking to be a gentleman or asking because he remembers how insecure Michael was? Either way, he nods. Harry smiles, shucking it off of him before working on his own shirt immediately after. Again, Michael’s heart swells for the same reasons.

“Dunno if you’re still dealing with that kinda stuff, but I just thought I’d take mine off too in case.”

Michael feels like crying. He’s gonna cry during sex, oh god. Fuck Harry.

“Fuck, Harry!” Michael whines, abruptly taken out of his sappy thoughts because of Harry, biting and sucking a mark into the crook of his neck and shoulders.

“Sorry. Couldn’t help it.”

“’s fine, and I’m not, not that much anyways. Oh,” Michael sighs, arching up into Harry’s mouth that’s sucking a mark to his chest.

“I’m glad, you really are pretty, baby.”

Michael whines.

“Is that cause of praise or the petname?”

“Both. Shut up.”

“You’ve gotten bossy. It’s kinda hot. Kinda makes me wanna punish you though.”

“Harry,” Michael whines. “-don’t say that.”

“Ooo, have you got a new kink?” Harry teases, mouth reattaching to Michael’s collarbone.

“Harry…shut up, shut up, just. Shut up.”

Harry chuckles against his skin.

“It’s hot. Really. You’d look really nice with handprints on your arse.”

Michael whimpers, eyes fluttering shut, hips bucking up against his will. Harry groans, mouthing more at the skin.

“Fuck, you want that? Want me to take you over my lap and smack you around some?”

“Harry- “

“Turn your pretty little arse red? Is that what you want baby?”

“Harry, fuck, please, anything. Do anything.”

“God, you’re so hot, so fucking hot.” Harry says, going up and crashing their lips together. Michael moans when their lips meet, tugging Harry’s hair. Harry groans, grinding down against Michael, and Michael gasps, bucking his hips up in reply. They grind against each other for a while, moaning into the other’s mouth all the while. Harry pulls off and _he_ looks fucked out, so Michael can only imagine what his own current state must be.

“Did you actually want me to spank you?” Harry asks.

Michael blushes.

“Is that a yes?” Harry teases.

Michael nods his head, throwing his arms over his head to hide his face.

“Don’t be embarrassed. It’s really fucking hot. Promise. Also, I’d be kind of a dick if I judged you for it, seeing that nothing gets me going like a good manhandling.”

“Yeah? You’d look really pretty with hands around your throat, Haz.”

Harry’s eyes flutter shut.

“Knew you’d be into choking. Another day, maybe. I’ll manhandle you however you please.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

They share eye contact briefly before Harry leans down and kisses Michael’s chest.

“Do you wanna be over my lap?”

Michael shudders, nodding.

“Right, turn over, get into position. Don’t make me wait or I’ll make it 20.”

Michael nods, scurrying to get across Harry’s lap, taking off his jeans and underwear in the process.

“Good boy. I think ten will do, yeah?”

Michael nods, wiggling his ass for Harry. Mostly to tease, partially because he’s impatient. Harry delivers a quick smack as a response. Michael stops.

“Don’t be a little shit or I will make it more, and I want you to count, got it?”

“Got it.”

Harry rubs his hand gently across Michael’s thighs, silently asking if this is okay. Michael arches up again, but Harry knows that it’s his response, not him being provocative.

The first slap isn’t as hard as either of them want, but Harry is testing the waters.

“One,” Michael breathes out shakily.

Harry does it again, slightly harder.

“Two,” Michael squeaks out.

Harry slaps down three times in quick succession, harder than before, and Michael moans.

“Three, four five, Harry-“

“-Six, sev-ah, eight, Harry, please,” Michael begs, trying not to grind against Harry’s legs.

“Please what?”

“Feels so good, feels so, ah, nine, Harry, please-“ Michael whimpers, squirming.

“Yeah? Feels good getting slapped? That’s a bit…naughty, isn’t it?”

“Harry, please, don’t stop-“

“I’m not. You’ve still got at least one more, how could I?”

Michael shudders when he hears ‘at least’. But suddenly,

“Ten, ten, Harry…”

Harry’s hands gently rub circles into the red skin, making the younger boy squirm more.

“Sit still. You’re absolutely _dripping_ , look at you. So needy from just a couple slaps. You’re dripping all against my skin, you dirty little thing.”

“Harry-“

“I wanna taste. Can I?” Harry asks, jutting his leg up, jolting Michael, making him whimper and grind down into the friction it caused.

“Yeah, yes, Harry, need you, please.”

“Flip over, up against the pillows. There you go. Look at you. You’re so hard, baby. Such a pretty cock you’ve got. Pretty cock for an even prettier boy.”

Michael positively whines. His back arches as soon as Harry’s fingertips wrap around the tip of his cock.

Harry begins by mouthing at his thighs. Michael’s head swims in a sea of overfamiliarity mixed with all the pain of heartache mixed with joy and pleasure. Having Harry being so intimate with him again hurts him in all the best ways now, later he assumes it’ll hurt like a bitch, but he can’t think about that right now because Harry is kissing _so close_ to his cock and he will go insane if his mouth isn’t on him in the next two seconds.

As if he could read Michael’s mind, Harry kisses just the tip of Michael’s cock, and Michael’s hips shoot up against his will. Harry snickers.

“I’m all for you fucking my mouth, but let me at least get my mouth on you, baby.” Harry says, lips against his cock the entire time. The way he said baby makes Michael’s stomach perform an entire gymnastics routine.

“Haz, Hazza, please.” Michael begs, gently carding his fingers through Harry’s hair.

“Let me love on you. It’s been too long. And I like to tease you.”

Michael whines but let’s Harry do his thing. He’s gonna cry.

 _Finally_ , after what Michael thinks could be an entire century, Harry kisses up the length of Michael’s cock and wraps his pretty lips around the head. It’s so good. Michael is totally about to break into tears.

“Harry, fuck” is the intelligent thing Michael came up with, moaning and squirming with the effort of not fucking up into the warm heat. He knows Harry said it was okay to earlier, but Michael is _trying_ to be a gentleman.

That doesn’t last long.

As soon as Harry’s cheeks hollowed, Michael fucked up into his mouth. Harry made some sort of choking-in-a-good-way sound, so Michael guesses he’s okay to do it again. When Harry sinks his mouth down so his nose is brushing the hair at the base of his cock and takes him down his throat, Michael nearly dies, he thinks. He holds Harry’s head there gently and grinds up in small motions and Harry is crying just a little bit, but he’s whining, and Michael can see the shift in his hips against the bed. Against his arousal, he pulls Harry off of him so he can catch his breath. Harry looks up with big, glossy, diluted eyes and sinful lips and has the _audacity_ to speak to Michael as though it wouldn’t fuck him up.

“Fuck my mouth, please, fuck my mouth.” Harry says, voice raspy and deep.

Harry is back on him in an instant, already pushing to take him down his throat, and who is Michael to turn a boy like Harry down? He takes hold on Harry’s hair again and grinds up into his mouth, hips leaving the mattress. They both moan, and Michael does it again, and again, until he’s so close and desperate to come he’s seeing stars. He just needs that extra something, and again, he thinks Harry can read minds, because just as he thought that, Harry reached up and slapped him _hard_ on the side of his thigh. Michael’s hips buck up, and he flinches more at the sound than the feeling.

“Harry! Haz, coming, ‘m coming..” Michael whines out, tugging Harry’s hair sharply and bucking his hips up wildly.

Harry pulls off just as he’s on the brink, and whines out in a deep voice,

“Come on me, come on my face, please.”

Michael moans, doing just that. When he’s done, he lays back on his back, catching his breath. Harry crawls back over him, and Michael wraps an arm around his hips and pulls him down, trapping Harry’s cock between his and Michael’s stomachs. He whimpers, grinding gently into the space, tucking his face into Michael’s neck.

“Y’know, I kinda miss the longer hair. Loved yanking on it and tugging you around. All I had to do was slide a hand into your hair,” Michael says, doing just that with his free hand, “-and you were putty in my hands. It really was cute, Haz. But, fuck, you looked so pretty sucking me off. Your fluffy hair in those stupid fuckin headbands, fuck, you were so pretty with long hair. I actually think it was for the better we weren’t talking when you had actual long hair, cause fuck, _fuck_ , Harry. That photoshoot you did where you wore that collar?” Michael says, Harry whines.

Michael pushes Harry down harder against his stomach. Harry’s nails bite crescent moons into Michael’s arms.

“God, when you wore that collar, baby…made me think of so many things. Would you wear it for me? Let me have the leash?” Michael begins, slipping the hand from his hair down to Harry’s throat. “-Let me take you from behind and tug on it so it chokes you? Hmm?”

“Michael, please, I’m so close, I’m so close, fuck, ah-!” Harry says, getting cut off by Michael wrapping his hand around his throat.

“Fuck, so pretty, so fucking pretty like that. Only I control when you breathe, right baby? You don’t get to tell me to do anything, it’s just me, and you’ll do as I say, right? Because you know that if you don’t, you might not breathe again?” Michael says, knowing fully it’s a lie, but says it to rile Harry up, to play into his kink that drove and drives both of them insane.

Harry nods, weakly whining out, panting when Michael lets go.

“Come for me, baby. Make a mess.” Michael croons.

Harry shudders, biting Michael’s shoulder to muffle his whines, grinding desperately as he comes.

He rolls off of Michael after a while and the both lay in bed kissing. Harry’s making little whining noises, holding whatever part of Michael he can get a grip of. When they part, they’re both smiling.

“Hey you.” Michael says.

“Hey. Didn’t mean to get, like, that submissive. Oops. You know what a bit of mouth fucking does to me.”

“I do, which is why I was surprised when you said it. Don’t worry though, it was cute. I meant what I said though, about your hair. It looked so cute then, but you look, like, proper fucking edible now. Holy shit.” Michael says, absentmindedly tracing the mermaid tattoo.

“Yeah?”

“Totally.”

Harry tilts Michael’s face up and kisses him gently again.

“Thank you. For this. For meeting up with me. Especially in Calum’s room.”

“Oh, shit, Haz, he’s gonna kill me.”

“Nah. Remember when we fucked in Liam’s room? He properly nearly drowned me on stage the next night, but it was fine. You’ll be fine. Just watch yourself on stage.” Harry says, reaching down and locking their fingers.

Michael smiles.

“Can we…continue talking? Like, texts, whatever. I missed talking to you Hazza.”

Harry grins dopily.

“’Course, emo. Missed talking to you too. No one wants to hear about my Gucci campaign with the animals. The chicken reminded me of you. Dunno why. She just screamed ‘emo’ to me. Don’t look into it.”

Michael laughs, snuggling into Harry.

“Wasn’t planning to. Can we stay here for a bit? I can text Cal to get me a new room key and then we can go there. I think he’s out with Luke today.” Michael says, kissing the birds on Harry’s chest.

Harry wraps an arm around Michael’s shoulders, pulling him closer.

“Yeah. Missed you, emo.”

“Missed you too, Haz.”


End file.
